


The Room Was Dark

by HumsHappily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Greg, Protective Sherlock, Secrets, mystrade, season 4, season 4 tidy up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9343631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: After everything that's happened with Euros, Mycroft is feeling adrift. Greg fills his promise to Sherlock, and fixes it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has Season Four Spoilers. This fic is a fix it, feel good fic.  
> Don't like, don't read, don't blame me if you get spoiled, and please, do not complain about season four in my comments section, thank you kindly.

“Just spoke to your brother.”

“How is he?” Sherlock asked, turning as Greg walked up.

“He’s a bit shaken up, that’s all. She didn’t hurt him, just...locked him in her old cell.”

“What goes around comes around,” John said, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah. Gimme a moment boys.” Greg nodded, and stepped around them.

“Ehm,” Sherlock said, turning to watch him. Greg paused. “Mycroft. Make sure he’s looked after. He’s not as strong as he thinks he is.”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” Greg nodded, walking backward.

“Thanks, Greg.”

Greg gave Sherlock a surprised look, but carried on, heading over to the other officers.

**

“So a sister?” Greg walked up quietly, setting his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft didn’t reply, and Greg carefully took the cigarette from his hand, extinguishing it in the overflowing ashtray beside him. “How many packs?” he asked, looking around the dimly lit study. He frowned at the projector screen, still down and frozen on an image of a younger Mycroft.

“This is the third. I’d planned on six total.”

“I talked to Sherlock and John. They’re staying in my flat while we wait for Baker Street to be cleared. I said I’d come here. You shouldn’t be alone right now, Mycroft.”

“Inspector Lest-”

“Don’t.” Greg looked at him, covering his hand. “Mycroft. Don’t. You don’t need...to do this right now.”

Mycroft lifted his head, not looking at him, and reached out for the lighter sitting on the table.

“Don’t,” Greg said again, voice soft, pushing it out of his reach. Mycroft paused and then turned, reaching for a switch instead. The room went dark, and Greg glanced around uneasily. “Mycroft? I-oh.”

He hushed as Mycroft’s hand found his again, and there was the sensation of a body shifting in the darkness. Greg breathed out slowly, finding the other man in his arms, pressed close to his chest. “It’s all right. You did your best,” he murmured, bringing a hand up to cradle Mycroft’s head against his shoulder. “You did what you had to.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“It was.” Greg swallowed, tipping his head back as he heard the absolute broken tone in Mycroft’s voice, the dull ghost of a snapped violin string. “Mycroft, you’ve never done anything but take care of them. Both of them. Sherlock and....Euros. You’ve lived your entire life covering up, checking on them, doing anything you could to make sure they stayed alive.”

“A drug addict who plays with dead bodies and on crime scenes to get a high, and a woman confined to a glass box who’s more than happy to provide dead bodies.” Mycroft gave a bitter laugh, shuddering slightly in Greg’s arms.

“And a man who is the British Government, who’s smoked a bit too much tonight, and hopefully has taken some time off work because he certainly needs it.” Greg groped for the light switch, only to have Mycroft take his hand again.

“I did, actually. I..quit.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Not just yet. The resignation letter is there, on the table. I shouldn’t have the power I do any longer. I don’t deserve it.”

“Mycroft...why?”

“I caused the death of five people, just today. Six, if you counted the revival of memories of Victor. There is blood on my hands, whether or not I pulled the trigger.”

“No. Your sister did. And that’s not your fault.” Greg hesitantly pushed his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, coaxing him in the direction of the couch he’d seen.

“If I hadn’t-”

“Mycroft. Enough.” Greg cupped his face, tugging it up. “You’re not quitting, this is not your fault, and you are not going to sit here and smoke yourself to death. Do you understand? You are _not_ giving up.”

“And why not?” Mycroft whispered. “Why shouldn’t I? Everything that has happened is my fault.”

“Because I won’t let you, dammit. You think I put up with Sherlock and John and their antics and drama for all these years for some help with cases? You think I just let you kidnap me _whenever_ you damn well pleased for nothing? And Anthea! The amount of shite I put up with from her just because she could see what you were too stupid to.” Greg pulled Mycroft back against his chest. “You’re not giving up, because if you did, I’d have nothing left to hope for. Understand? It’s only you, Mycroft.” Greg pressed their lips together in an impatient kiss, covering Mycroft’s startled noise. “And that...well, that is actually your fault,” he murmured, pulling away. “I’m sorry. But you could have died today. Figured it was a good enough time as any.”

“Gregory?”

“I know. You don’t do this sort of thing, do you?” Greg asked.

“Theoretically,” Mycroft said hoarsely. “Only ever theory...There has never been anyone that would care for me otherwise.”

“Did you ever want to?” Greg ran his thumb over the curve of his cheek.

“Theoretically,” Mycroft repeated. “Only ever once, and I was never truly sure if that was what I wanted. There were times that I should have, but never one that mattered.”

“Oh.”

Mycroft shook his head. “There are always too many secrets. None that I could ever let show.”

“Well...the room is dark.” Greg shrugged carefully. “It hides us well.”

“What do you want?”

“Right now? I want you to sit and tell me what happened today.” Greg took another step back, sitting as the back of his knees hit the couch. “And then after...I want to help you forget, just for a night if nothing else. You need to be able to sleep. If only for a night.” He tugged Mycroft gently, guiding him down onto the couch.

Mycroft made a small noise, and then laid his head on Greg’s shoulder. “Very well,” he said. “Listen carefully. Some of this may not...make sense.”

“Does it ever?” Greg asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

Mycroft began to tell the story, voice hushed. By the time he’d finished, the room had a red tinge to it, the smog curdled early sunlight peeking in from behind a thick corner curtain. Greg shifted as Mycroft grew silent, and slid an arm around him. “Bed,” he said quietly, giving him a gentle hug.

“Don’t you have questions?”

“Loads. But that’s all right. They can wait.” Greg stood, offering a hand to Mycroft. “Do you want me to stay?”

Mycroft took his hand with a nod. “Yes...with me, if you please.”

“Be an honor,” Greg replied. “You’re...really something, Mycroft. And you’re not a strong as people think you are. That’s all right though.”

Mycroft gave him a wry smile. “You’re not a foolish as people think you are.”

“I never have been. I just play stupid well.” Greg put his arm back around him, drawing him in for a tight hug. “But I know what you need,” he murmured. “So for once, let someone take care of you.” He locked gazes with Mycroft, and Mycroft nodded once.

“I’m frightened of clowns,” he said quietly.

Greg was startled into a laugh. “Wait, what?”

“I have always been afraid of clowns. I just thought...while I was sharing things, perhaps something that might make me seem...human. Worthy of this attention.” Mycroft glanced past Greg’s shoulder. “Apologies. Perhaps it wasn’t the time.”

“You’re human enough, Mycroft. You’re worth enough.” Greg tipped Mycroft’s chin back to face him. “Understand?

“Then...I’d like to sleep. And I’d like you to stay,” Mycroft replied. He looked at Greg for a moment, then leaned in to kiss him.

“You’ve always been enough,” Greg murmured as they broke apart for the second time. “Don’t lose that.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 


End file.
